There I lay, flat on my back, his hands resting on my breasts as he looks down into my face and begins to describe, in infinite detail... his golf game? I had to write it down exactly the way it happens every year that I go into his office for my annual exam. My doctor or more specifically, my OBGYN who, incidentally, I think is one of the greatest people on the planet; I am in pre-mourning for the day when he retires, which I ask him about when I see him, now only once a year. And, as I told him today, I refuse to choose a physician who is younger than I am, at least not yet. For now, I'm sticking with him and then, well, depending upon when he retires, I might just have to find another older man or (sigh) a woman. As I am not at all a gender biased person, well, maybe a shave in this instance, you will have to forgive my preference for a doctor, well, doctors who prefer Sir to Madam.
He's been my doctor for 15 years since I was, hmmm, not good with Math... since I was 26? Wow, that long? I had a doctor prior to him, but, I didn't particularly care for her and prior to that it was good old Planned Parenthood. Another topic for another rant, maybe one focused on the lack of societal "common sense" in funding programs that SAVE young girls from lives of indenture and ignorance by providing them with education, but... I digress. So, Dr. M. 15 years, almost as long as I've been married to my husband. A coincidence? Another question, but really, not all that interesting. Anyway, so Dr. M was referred to me by my primary physician, Dr. R who, is also of the male persuasion and who I LOVE. He is the kind of person who you want to date, marry, to have father your children and then to care for you your whole life. Either that, or who you want to talk to when you've had two miscarriages in a row and you drag yourself into his office only to have him tell you, in the kindest voice, "Yvette, I know you and you are not depressed and, you will survive this" and then have him hand you a card, telling you to just give this therapist a call and after which, you realize that the man is a genius because the therapist turns out to be a lifesaving device in the tsunami that has become your life. When I asked Dr. R for a referral, he never asked me if I preferred a female physician, which I find interesting in and of itself because I know that there are many women who do not feel comfortable with a man that close to their "private" areas, but, hell, isn't that the point? And, if a man or men weren't up in those areas in the first place, aside from an annual exam, you wouldn't really need a gynecologist anyway, would you? Whatever, I mean, I am a moderately modest person, always have been, but when I'm in the doctor's office, you might as well install a pole because there is no shame in that small space. But, again, I digress, well, just a smidge. So, Dr. R. tells me to give Dr. M. a call and interview him, see what I think and to come back if I don't like him. Good enough I say and I make an appointment. At the time, I'm 26 and he is, oh, let's say 50, charming, charismatic and, does not mince words. I mean, I thought I was direct. Dr. M. gives me a run for my money. He asks me about having children, sex and everything in between and I shoot right between the eyes, something that he clearly appreciated by the laughter and the smiles and the banter between us that first afternoon. He asks me what I'm looking for in a doctor who will have a great deal of say in the childbirth process and in my health as I go through my childbearing years and after. I remember thinking about that and, ultimately, I decided right then to be perfectly clear: I don't want to be coddled, I don't need you to tell me that everything is going to be okay, I need you to tell me what I should do when I am too emotional or psychologically challenged to be able to decide for myself, I don't want to discuss everything, I just want to do what is necessary, I like medication and I do not want to be a martyr or a heroine. He looked at me and said, "Good enough." and we shook hands, parting as friends and we've been on good terms since...
There have been many moments over these years when I've needed sound advice, when I've needed a rational voice to guide me and to help me see what wasn't the best decision or path at the time and which Dr. M. along with Dr. R. have provided. At one point, they may have been faking their warmth and affection as they did not yet know me and despite only seeing them seldomly, I get the feeling; well, they make me feel as if they do care about my well being. They sit, we talk, we laugh, Dr. M. pauses as he gives me a breast exam, EVERY single time and I chalk it up to he forgets what he was saying and then doing. Men, not the best at multi-tasking and besides, his hands are always warm... okay, I'm just fucking around right now. He's a decent and kind human being and he has seen me through 3 childbirths and 2 miscarriages and he's held my hand and told me to calm down and, I'm positive that more than once he's wanted to tell me to fuck off, but, he hasn't. And, he always seems glad to see me, kind of picking up our annual conversation right where we left off. For me, it's not only helpful to have a "guy's" perspective, but in this facet of my life, it's a necessity.
When I was getting my MA, I was walking one night on the Dominguez campus and I noticed a man walking toward me. I think I noticed him initially because he had on a suit with a red shirt. The closer he got to me, the more I felt my lungs constrict and I suddenly couldn't breathe. My doctor, Dr. R. was right there and as he stopped, as he shook my hand and smiled and throughout the entire conversation, only one thought kept recurring through my mind; he's seen me naked. I know, not the most poignant, but it's different when your doctor is staring at you, making small talk and it's completely benign when you are in the office and he sees you as the "patient." Weird... very Twilight Zone. Outside of the office though, they are men, like real people and I guess that's what I found kind of odd.
In thinking about my relationships with my doctors; I also began to think about my relationships or interactions with men in general. I prefer a male masseuse when I get a massage, regardless of the type of massage. Some of my friends prefer women because their hands are smaller, but that doesn't matter to me in the slightest. I like the feel of a man's hands on my body, the strength; maybe it's because I'm so tense and what not or maybe, ultimately, it's just that I feel more comfortable around men. I think I always have. That's something that my therapist and I (who, incidentally, is a woman so that dispels that "all or nothing" notion, whatever that notion might be) will have to discuss. I just don't feel as judged by men which in and of itself is kind of ironic as I often do feel that they are sizing me up in a "can she hold her own" type of way. So, they are judging. But I really appreciate the forthright attitudes and the direct manner of speaking and more often than not, when I'm angry, I'd prefer to throw something or kick someone's ass than to talk it out. Yes, I'm generalizing, but that's they way it goes when one goes off on a tangent. Cosmically appropriate then that I ended up being the mother of three boys then...
I guess, in thinking about today and schlepping myself to yet another appointment of some sort, I was considering that there may not be too many visits left with Dr. M. and it also made me think about all of the men in my life, the ones who are important and who take care of me. Ironically enough, when I think about it, all three of my sons have a female physician and a female dentist. Hmmm, maybe there is some kind of cosmic balance to the universe. See you next year Dr. M. and, thanks for the chat...
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